


Prayer is for the Lonely and Afraid

by keylimepie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Misses Castiel, Gabriel Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:25:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: Dean hasn't heard from Cas in a long time and is getting desperate. But will it help matters when Gabriel answers his prayer?**Written for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge for the April prompt**





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in season 12.

“You know, I don't even know if you can hear me anymore... maybe you can't, or maybe you're just not paying attention... but anyway man, your mailbox is full and your phone is dead and I dunno what else to do. I thought we were okay, Cas. I mean, I don't think you're pissed off at me. Unless I did something so dumbassed that I don't even know what. And I know you're into some pretty dangerous territory right now and that – it scares the shit out of me, okay? You're off after Princes of Hell, for chrissake, and now you're not answering your phone for weeks? And after- you know, and what happened when- when w-we got home, and... Cas, please, please if there's any way you can get in touch and let me know you're alright, please?” Dean leaned against the hood of his car, the engine's heat seeping through his jeans and into his skin. He'd driven for hours, aimless, before pulling over in this field to pray to Cas. He glanced at his phone, next to him on the hood, silent. 

Dean lurched forward, diving onto his knees in one desperate motion. “Okay, this one's for Chuck – no, not just Chuck – this is for anyone, anyone who can tell me where Castiel is. This is Dean Winchester, and I need information. But you should also know that I have holy oil and angel blades, so no funny business. I just need to know – if...” Dean's voice cracked. “...something happened, I just – need to know.” 

The field remained deserted. Dean glanced around in a circle, flexing his fingers, but saw nothing. He drew himself to his feet wearily. “Prayer is fucking stupid, anyway,” he grumbled, brushing the dirt from his knees. 

“You know, some people think that prayer is just as essential to life as water, air, and sex,” said a familiar voice from behind him. Dean spun around and glared at the figure standing there. Kinda short, blond, snarky, he stood there in jeans and a purple striped button-down shirt and battered sneakers, as if it hadn't been seven years since... 

“You're dead,” Dean said incredulously. 

“Oh? Huh.” Gabriel looked down at himself, brushing off the front of his dark blue denim jacket. “I look pretty lively though, right?” 

“I guess. So, Chuck rebuilt you after all? Back to life after all these years?” 

“Chuck who? I'm... rather hard to kill, as you might have noticed a few times. But I'm not here to talk about my amazing cleverness and stamina, Dean. I'm here to answer your prayer.” He folded his hands reverently and looked upward with an exaggerated air of humility, then grinned. 

Dean snorted, but he looked intrigued. “You know something about where Cas has been?” 

“I do, as it turns out. He's alive and well, I can at least assure you of that. And um. He feels pretty bad that he hasn't been able to answer you. He knows how worried you've been. He-” 

“So where is he?” Dean spat out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes locked onto Gabriel's, but Gabriel quickly looked away. 

“Can't tell you... welllll okay, I can tell you that he's in Heaven but-” 

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “Are you frigging kidding me? What, did they shanghai him? Please tell me you can get him out!” 

“Relax, kiddo. He went willingly. And no... no, I can't get him out. I was able to chat with him; that was hard enough.” Gabriel sighed, his face suddenly strained, creased in frown lines. 

“So he went willingly, but now he can't leave? Or even use his frigging phone? So they tricked him and now he's a prisoner?” Gabriel didn't answer, but the pained expression in his eyes confirmed it to Dean. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed. 

“I wish I had better news,” Gabriel sighed. “That little brother of mine... he's something, isn't he? You know, he was praying, too... to me, and he wasn't even too sure that I was alive. Boy, you should have seen his face when I popped in! He wanted so badly for you not to worry, Dean.” Gabriel added softly. “I gather that you two are...?” 

Dean glanced to the side, then sighed deeply. “How ironic is it that you're like the one angel I think won't fuck with us over it? Yeah. Yeah... I guess we are.” 

“Well, good for you,” Gabriel said enthusiastically. “Find happiness where you can, kids.” 

“Yeah, that'd be a lot easier if you'd help me bust him out of fluffy cloud land.” 

“Don't you get it, Dean? He's negotiating, he _wanted_ to talk to them, to hear what they have to say. If I bust him out, they're going to declare him in full-on rebellion. I don't want that. He doesn't want that. Let him try to work this out and gain the upper hand. Don't you have faith in him?” 

Dean chuckled darkly. “Faith in him? He's the only thing I have faith in. It's the rest of those harp-playing douchenozzles I don't frigging trust.” He glanced up to the sky, as if he'd be able to catch a glimpse of what was going on up there. 

“Understood. But all the same... you gotta let him manage it himself, you know? Give him a little more time.” Gabriel sauntered over to the car and stood next to Dean, leaning against the car in imitation of his stance. “I'll keep an eye on him in the meantime, if it makes you feel better.” 

“Mmm. And what do you get out of this?” 

Gabriel snorted. “What do I get out of looking after my trouble-magnet little brother? You of all people ask me this?” 

“So what, Cas just means that much to you?” Dean asked sarcastically. 

“Uh... yes?” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “Would you feel better if I gave you the 'break my little bro's heart and I'll cut your balls off' speech?” 

“Not... not really, no,” Dean said, wincing. “It's just... there's millions of you guys, yeah? Cas is special to you, out of all of them?” 

“I love every single one of my brothers and sisters... even those who are acting as, as you say, douchenozzles. But yes, I am entitled to have favorites, and Castiel is a favorite. I taught that kid to use his blade, taught that kid to fly when his wings were barely- Oh! Speaking of which!” Gabriel stuck a hand in his jacket pocket and pulled it out, extending it to Dean. In his open palm was a jet black feather. “He wanted me to give you this.” 

Dean twirled the feather between his fingers. “This is... but, his- his wings are broken, aren't they? I mean, I guess I don't know exactly how it works but I know he ain't been able to fly.” 

Gabriel smirked at Dean, a flash of golden-white light in his eyes. “He just needed a little boost. There are some advantages to being a fully powered archangel. It ain't all strippers and jello shots... though, that _is_ quite a lot of it.” 

“So all his mojo is back to factory settings? You powered him all up?” Dean asked incredulously. Gabriel nodded. Dean's face split into a huge grin and he pounced on Gabriel, crushing him in an enthusiastic but quick hug, then clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks man!” he exclaimed. He studied Gabriel for a moment. “So, I should be heading back soon. I, uh, only told Sammy I was going out for beer.” 

“Oh. Well, you know how to get in touch with me... give me a holler when-” 

“Actually, do you want to go grab some beer and Chinese and head back with me? I mean, unless you've got, like, archangel business to attend to...” 

“Dean, I'd love to come over for dinner and catch up,” Gabriel said, snapping his fingers and blinking himself from the hood of the car to sitting in the passenger seat. Dean climbed into the drivers seat and turned the key, the engine roaring to life. 

“Okay so... Anne Murray or Nickelback?” Gabriel asked, reaching for the radio. 

“Shut your cakehole!” Dean replied. 


End file.
